


Radiant

by FeatherQuilt88



Series: The Amber Dragon Anthology [9]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Art, Cute, Cute Kids, Drawing, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Food, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Joyful, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Love, Portraits, Post-Canon, Prison, Songs, Tea, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherQuilt88/pseuds/FeatherQuilt88
Summary: Iroh hires a police sketch artist, for a job of emotional importance. The artist turns out to be someone he knows.
Relationships: Iroh & Ming (Avatar), Iroh & Original Child Character(s)
Series: The Amber Dragon Anthology [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988473
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	Radiant

**Author's Note:**

> For readers new to my "Amber Dragon" fanfic series--in it, Iroh has come back to the Fire Nation to live near Zuko, and has opened a new teashop, the Amber Dragon, there in Capital City. He also has adopted my fancharacter, Chiko, an orphan from a former Fire colony.
> 
> "Nozomi" is the name I made up for Iroh's late wife in this universe, and Aika is the late mother I made up for Chiko. Chief Daichi is a background fancharacter I made up for the sake of the plot here.

Iroh tiptoes around the police chief's office like a curious cat, tracing his pudgy fingers along various table-edges. He reaches for an interesting display of spears, but then--remembering a certain incident in Commander Zhao's tent--thinks better of it.

The police chief--a burly man in his mid-fifties--rubs one ankle against the other. Prince Iroh has always been noted for being a little... eccentric. --As good-natured as they come, of course! But eccentric. The chief is not _worried,_ exactly, just... respectfully curious.

"You say you want to commission one of our artists, Sir? Begging your Highness' pardon, of course, but surely a court painter would be more suited to your needs?..."

Iroh suddenly looks up, very pleasantly. "Oh no, Chief Daichi, I know what I'm about! The court painter will come later." He spreads his wide sleeves (red today--one can never tell whether he's going to show up in red or green, according to the neighborhood). "What I need is someone who can sketch a likeness based purely on a spoken description."

"Well, that is indeed what our portrait artists are trained for, in the making of Wanted posters and criminal profiles and such," Daichi acknowledges.

"Yes," Iroh nods in satisfaction. "Though this will not be a criminal I am wanting sketched, of course! And I would also like it if, from among your artists, you would pick for me one who does well with children."

***

_Iroh has asked Chief Daichi to send the chosen sketch artist over this weekend. He will be paying them on their own time, after all, so he feels it is better to avoid the complications of a workday. And, it will make the whole ordeal more relaxed, without such a tight schedule._

This also means that Iroh and Chiko are having fun with a leisurely breakfast. On a workday, the old noble-turned-teamaker and his adoptive daughter would share a quick bowl of food that his employees had prepared--the kind they would soon be doling out to customers, along with Iroh's famous cups of tea. But on weekends, Iroh relishes waking up a little later, prancing Chiko around in his arms like a giggling baby bird, and preparing whatever special dishes either of their hearts desire.

One of their favorite comfort foods is, of course, noodles. Iroh himself is still rather new to the culinary arts--he has been making tea ever since he was an older child, and his mother taught him the technique, but it was only during his and Zuko's fugitive days in the Earth Kingdom that Iroh taught himself how to cook food, out of necessity. He has found he quite enjoys it, but still is most comfortable with simple dishes. Noodles are nice like that--warm and filling and easy, something that can be boiled just like tea. And so versatile, with what goodies can be added to them! And it is so cute, watching Chiko eagerly waiting near the pot.

"Boil up, li'l bubbles!" she peeps.

Iroh pets her downy head with one hand, Firebending a gentle flame under the cookpot with the other. "You must learn to be _patient,_ my little cherry blossom!" he chuckles affectionately, clucking like a mother hen. "The bubbles will come up when they are ready. It is not polite to fuss at them."

A portrait of Lu-Ten stands vigil near them, over a writing-desk. Its top shelf has just enough room to hold a small incense-burner, and on special days, a morsel of food, laid out on a cloth. (Bless her, just yesterday Chiko had wanted to put a slice of her candied peach there, "to share with Big Brother," even though it wasn't a special occasion.)

_There are several such portraits in Iroh and Chiko's home--the cozy, private rooms behind the public serving areas of the Amber Dragon. There are framed inks of Lu-Ten, and of Iroh's wife, Nozomi, and of his mother, Ilah. There is a beautiful new painting of Zuko, Iroh, and Chiko beaming together, which was made only a few days after Chiko's adoption (the same morning Zuko had started calling Iroh "Dad!")._

_But amidst all these cherished pictures of Iroh's family, both the living and the dead... there are none of Chiko's mother. The child has already remarked once, how she wishes so much for a drawing of her own late Mommy, to hang next to Lu-Ten's in the corner._

_But Iroh and Zuko never met Chiko's mother, Aika--a humble seamstress from the former Fire colony of Sekitan. Aika had died three weeks before they had found the little girl as a stowaway on their ship._

_Chiko is quite literally the only member of their family who even knows what Aika looked like._

_And while Iroh knows from experience that love itself will never fade... a child's memory of concrete details can be a fickle and fragile thing._

_The thought had occurred to him then, poignant and urgent. Chiko had come to him and Zuko with nothing but the clothes on her back. If they wanted their new little princess to have any accurate images of her mother, they had to act NOW._

This project will be one of mixed emotions, Iroh knows, but Chiko has seemed quite cheerful and excited about it so far. The old Firebender has explained to her that someone will be coming later this morning, to listen to her describe her mother, and to make a picture from that. ( _Then_ Iroh will get a court painter, of course, to make a few more elaborate re-creations of Chiko with her mother. This police artist's sketches will become that artist's reference.)

The little girl has asked at least twice when the "drawing person" will be coming, but breakfast distracts her for the time being. As the water starts boiling and the noodles begin softening, Iroh stirs in a savory soy broth, and some pretty little vegetable flakes cut to look like flowers. He chuckles again, as he lifts Chiko up to sniff the concoction appreciatively. Then, when all is ready, he ladles it into deep bowls for them (one a bit wider than the other).

 _Sluuuuuu-uuurp!_ The old Fire prince and his third child shovel up their noodles with absolute gusto. Iroh has taught Chiko that it is actually very good manners to noisily show the chef how much you enjoy the meal. Iroh has _such_ good manners that a couple of noodles flip up and smack his pug nose on their way into his mouth, leaving a wet vegetable flake there. Chiko positively shrieks with laughter as her father's eyes cross, and he daintily dabs the speck of food off with a towel.

 _Knock, knock._ "Oh, perfect timing!" Iroh observes his now-empty bowl with satisfaction, hopping up and shuffling towards the door.

When he gets there, he is met by a familiar face. His normally-growly voice suddenly jumps several octaves in surprise, becoming a squeaking gasp of joy.

" _Ming!!_ "

Her high ponytail and kind, graceful face are exactly the same as he remembers, although she is not in uniform today. And she is smiling with the same joy (if not surprise), raising one hand to her mouth in a warm chuckle of delight. "Hello, Sir Iroh."

The two of them clasp hands almost immediately. All of the memories come flooding back.

_Ming doesn't really notice Iroh's recent re-gain of weight. She had never been able to tell, exactly, that he had lost any, back at the prison--he had always been so covered in rags and overgrown hair. No, what she notices is the rosy health IN those chubby cheeks now. And she notices his clean, well-tailored beard, and just all the color swirling around him in general. All the happiness and light._

Seeing Iroh like this now, after what she had known before, almost feels to Ming like watching the sun bursting out of a shadowy cloudbank. Like watching the transformation in _all_ of their lives, free from the war at last. She dabs the happy tears from her eyes. "You look _radiant,_ " she whispers, almost in wonder.

"Come in, Ming," Iroh whispers, equally tenderly. "Come _in!_ "

Ming chuckles again, as she follows Iroh through the serving-room. "I had been meaning to come and see you, ever since I heard about the Amber Dragon's opening in the papers. Then Chief Daichi sent me to your doorstep before I even knew what was happening!"

"I am so glad he did," Iroh beams. "So you are a sketch artist now?"

"I got transferred away from that horrible old prison almost as soon as Lord Zuko was crowned," the guard lady smiles shyly. "Then Chief Daichi found out I had some talent with charcoal."

 _Smick-smack, smick-smack._ Chiko's tiny feet come pattering across the floor. Iroh's and Ming's smiles broaden even more, as Iroh sweeps the little princess up into his arms.

"It looks like you have become a father again, meanwhile," Ming observes with a grin. "That was in the papers as well."

"Oh, I have never stopped," Iroh lets her know proudly, throwing a glance towards the portraits of Zuko, and the just-as-undyingly-loved Lu-Ten. "I have just _added_ to my collection!" he teases, pressing his nose into Chiko's now.

The little girl shrieks with giggles again. Then she quiets, turning to Ming. "Are you here to draw my Mommy?" she peeps, somewhat more somberly.

Iroh's policewoman friend bends gently down to her level. "Yes, little one. But I will need your help."

***

Chiko presses her button nose against the couch as Ming sets out her supplies. Iroh brings a steaming cup of tea for her. "White osmanthus," he winks sweetly.

Ming gasps, her smile broadening again. "You _remembered!_ " _He had asked her her favorite flavor, once, when she had started bringing him cups of tea on the sly as treats._

Chiko, meanwhile, is examining Ming's charcoal-tipped drawing sticks. She hugs her handkerchief-doll, Rei, in one arm, and hesitantly reaches for a charcoal with the other. Iroh stops her from upsetting them, folding his long sleeve around her tiny form.

Ming takes a patient swig of tea, then pulls her drawing pad towards her lap. "Okay, Chiko," she breathes softly, knowing this is a tender issue; "can you tell me about your mother?"

The little amber eyes meet her gray ones--somberly, trustingly. "She was _very_ pretty," Chiko peeps.

Iroh stops himself from chuckling at his child's innocence, lest the laughter seem uncaring. "I am sure she was, sweetheart," he reassures Chiko, bending down closer around her. "But that does not exactly tell us what we need to know."

Chiko trusts her adoptive father, but she can't keep her forehead from screwing up contritely nonetheless. "Why _not?_ "

"Well, look at Miss Ming," Iroh guides his little one's face back up to their guest's. "Don't you think she is very pretty?"

Ming smiles softly at the compliment, having to swallow her own fond chuckles now. The occasion is very sad, of course, but Iroh and his new child are both so cute.

When Chiko nods agreement, Iroh continues, "But does Miss Ming look exactly like your mother?"

Chiko's face falls, in sudden realization. "N-no," she peeps again, now rather worried.

"Well, what you've got to do now is tell Miss Ming _how_ your Mommy looks different from her," Iroh reassures her patiently, patting her little shoulders as he turns her to face the artist.

This magic comparison trips the floodgates in Chiko's mind--suddenly the descriptions can't come out fast enough. "She was shorter than you!" the little princess babbles excitedly, "and a little paler! But she had the same color eyes as you. And, and, her hair was like this," she pulls the edge of her own hair out for Ming to see, indicating its dark brown color.

"Good, good!" Ming nods delightedly, encouraging the child. "I will write all this down, for when we get to the coloring stage. But for now, let's start with the shape of your Mommy's face."

***

Chiko is a little confused, at first, when Ming asks her if Aika's face was longer, like hers, or shorter, like Iroh's. Mommy did not have big gray whiskers and a wrinkly forehead like Bapa's! But then they laugh and explain that they mean the length of her nose, the amount of space between her eyes and her mouth. Chiko brightens then, and confirms that Aika's face had indeed been shorter, like Iroh's.

Slowly, the portrait starts to materialize. Chiko's instructions come out gentle and peeping, more like requests than orders. Her peasant mother and her royal adoptive father have both taught her to mind her "please's and thank-you's," in their own ways.

"Can you make her cheek softer, please, Miss Ming?" Chiko rubs her own plump little cheek to demonstrate.

Ming nods, rubbing and smudging busily at the paper.

Iroh hovers about the scene with his teapot, peering over the police lady's shoulder. He is nearly as invested in this venture as Chiko is--for truth be told, he is deeply curious.

_All of his children have had different birth-parents. Chiko's blood-father had died before she was born--he had never met her. Zuko's blood-father had not deserved him. Iroh had been--and forever will be--Lu-Ten's own. But what of their mothers? Iroh had loved (and, again, forever will love) Nozomi as his wife, and Ursa as his sister-in-law. Something inside of him wants to love--at the very least, to honor--Aika now too._

_Iroh wants to see this woman's face. He wants to meet the mother of his third child._

Chiko's voice shakes him from his reverie again. " _Please_ make Mommy smile more, Miss Ming," she requests, almost worriedly. "Mommy _needs_ to smile!"

"Oh! Of _course_ she does, little one," Ming agrees, correcting this detail with a few soft scratches of her charcoal-stick. "Forgive me." _She had almost forgotten, being so used to drawing portraits with neutral expressions now._

Iroh watches them both affectionately. He remembers when that same kind, rather deep voice would come to him in his dingy cell--reminding him that, somehow, everything was going to be all right.

***

A few more details take shape, and the portrait is almost complete. Iroh sits behind Chiko on the couch, now.

"I think her nose was just a little bigger," Chiko presses at her own little face to demonstrate again, as if to make her nose flatter.

Ming complies, and holds the drawing out, then, for the adopted princess to evaluate.

"That's Mommy!!" Chiko gasps in recognition--the portrait is finally perfect.

Suddenly, the delight leaves her voice--it becomes tiny and sad. "...That's Mommy," Chiko repeats, in a whisper. She clutches Rei tightly, as her eyes mist over.

"Oh, oh oh oh," Iroh enfolds the child in an instant, sensing the tears before they even fall. He had predicted this would happen. The old Firebender comforts the little girl the best way he knows how--pressing her deep into his warm heart, swallowing her up with his love. He rocks her back and forth, as she sobs into his robes.

Ming almost finds herself crying too. "I'm so sorry--" she stammers. But Iroh's strong hand shoots out, steadying her chin. His gaze is as kind yet commanding as it had been, that final time she had seen him in his cell, the day before the sun went black.

"Don't be," he implores her, shaking his head. "This proves that your drawing is indeed true. You have done a great service for us today, dear Ming. And Chiko will thank you for it later, when she has had time to heal." He strokes the little one's head caringly.

Ming's gray eyes soften again, as she watches the old Fire prince nursing his child. One of the reasons she had first taken pity on him in the prison was because he had reminded her of her own late father. His words to Chiko oddly comfort her now, too.

" _There_ now, little blossom. _There_ now, little ember-light! You know you will see your mother again someday, just as I will see my Lu-Ten. You know we will _all_ be together, some sunny season. And until that time..." he pulls her face gently out of his chest for a moment, to look her in the eyes--"don't you think your mother is smiling now, to know you finally have a way of looking at her again? It was painful to look at portraits of my mother, too, and my wife, yes, and my precious Lu-Ten, for a short while." Iroh's grumbly voice softens in a tiny, caring smile of reassurance, as he touches Chiko's nose to his. " _But then I was so very glad I had them._ "

Chiko wipes mightily at her eyes and sniffs. The edges of her mouth ever-so-slightly begin to curl up again.

Iroh and Ming give her her time, letting her stay nuzzled there on the old man's belly. They whisper quietly together, getting caught up on old times. Iroh asks Ming about her family, the mother and little brother she lives with. _He had remembered that too!_

After a few more minutes, when Chiko is starting to feel a little better, Iroh and Ming sing her a song, to cheer her up even more. The policewoman can scarcely believe she is in the presence of royalty, technically--Iroh makes her feel so welcome to join in. and Chiko actually crawls out of his lap towards her now.

The song is a very old one--repeated since Avatar Roku's day, at the very least.

_Bring me two torches, to warm a cold cave.  
Bring me two torches, to bake a fine pie..._

Ming is older than she looks, in her late thirties, and Chiko was born overseas, in a colony. Yet despite their differences in origin and generation, this beloved rhyme is so universal to Fire people, the two girls (and Iroh) both know it by heart. Ming's long, graceful fingers mirror Chiko's small, stumpy ones as they act out the lines--wiggling their hands to signify the torches at the beginning, and clapping them together with the various uses at the end. _To dance with fireflies--to light a beacon--to guide a traveler--to warm a hearth._ Then, the last verse reveals that the two torches signify _my loved one and I,_ and the light they have to share everywhere they go.

Iroh makes Ming another cup of tea before she gets up to leave. Suddenly, Chiko's little feet come pitter-pattering again.

" _Thank you_ for drawin' Mommy, Miss Ming," the child hugs the policewoman's leg.

Ming feels her heart warm as much as the tea. "You're _welcome,_ little one," she lets the tiny princess know, bending down and petting her head.

Chiko reaches for the drawing of Aika now, almost like a kitten pawing. She is beginning to feel the thrill of seeing her Mommy's features again, despite the pain.

Iroh rescues the parchment, not wanting it to get crinkled before they can find it a frame. He lays it down on a low table, where Chiko can see it. Then he turns to their friend.

"Yes," his voice is a much deeper echo of his third child's; " _thank you,_ Ming."

And as she looks in those old amber eyes, Ming realizes that this is indeed a thank-you for having comforted his little girl. But it is also a thank-you for letting him see this woman's face for himself. And perhaps even beyond that... it is a thank-you for a secret swizzle of honey in a bowl of gruel. For a clean handkerchief, passed through iron bars to a trembling old hand. For a shared laugh one day, and a sympathetic tear the next, when no one else was listening.

Iroh runs to get her pay.

***

Chiko is busy laying a new slice of candied peach on the writing-desk in the kitchen. In their home's entryway, Iroh brings Ming a large bag of gold.

The police lady stares at the coins, almost in shock. _Local rumors say that Prince Iroh prefers to live on his own teashop earnings, like one of the common people. And even if that were not the case, the amount he has given to Ming here is a small fortune. It is more than any single art commission could possibly be worth, be it by a simple street-artist or the most prestigious court painter._

"Sir Iroh, I can't take this!" Ming gasps reverentially, pushing the bag back.

"You have done more than just sketch a subject, Ming," Iroh shakes his head, his voice cracking with emotion. "You have given my precious child an _irreplaceable memory_ back! --And you gave me my _hope_ back," he almost trembles.

Ming finds herself nearly crying too. "But those are priceless things, Sir Iroh," she whispers kindly, still pushing the coins back into his palms. "I don't _want_ to take money for them."

"Well..." Iroh considers this, then smiles with a solution; "would you at least take half-priced tea for life, then? Chiko and I would both love for you to start coming by."

Ming beams with all the warmth of the sun. " _That_ I will accept! You had best hope I don't run you out of all your white osmanthus stock," she giggles.

Iroh giggles too, and slips a more usual commission's worth of coins into Ming's hands.

 _Their hands were the only things that had ever touched, between the bars, whenever she had slipped him his lunch._ Iroh bites his lip. Suddenly, he and Ming both realize how very much they have always wanted to hug.

They do.

"I am _so happy for you,_ " Ming whispers.

Iroh can't speak, but the way his arms tighten around her shoulders shows he understands.

**Author's Note:**

> The detail about Iroh reminding Ming of her own father wasn't mentioned on-screen in the show, but I pulled it from the Avatar wiki--apparently, it was stated on the now-defunct Nickelodeon ATLA website. (The wiki didn't clarify if this unknown father was dead or alive, BTW, just that he also liked tea and that Iroh reminded Ming of him.)


End file.
